Page 17 of Fake Game

“Come, I need help making a drink. I’m out of ideas.”

“What would you do without me?”

“Dunno.” She cocks her head. “Buy premades, probably?”

“Fair.” I open her fridge and scan it before taking out a carton of watermelon juice, a can of club soda, maple syrup, and lime juice. One of our rituals for Crime Night is making different alcoholic concoctions; sometimes they are failures—like our coconut rum hot chocolate—and sometimes they are total wins—such as our peach schnapps-spiked boba.

“I didn’t think you’d come for a second there,” Lee whispers.

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. “I considered it.”

“Deer.” Empathy fills her voice, and I give her a stern look.

“Don’t. I’m fine.” I reach for the vodka and begin to mix all the ingredients together before pouring the pink concoction into two glasses with some ice. I hold one out to Lee. “I just want to enjoy a little murder, okay?”

“Okay.” She takes the glass from me with pursed lips, giving me a once over. “We decided on unsolved crimes tonight, by the way.”

“Fun.” I give her a wink before taking the lead and heading into her living room.

While my aesthetic might be e-girl pink, Lee’s aesthetic is justaesthetic. Everything about her apartment is pretty, from the meticulously cared-for aquarium below her giant TV, to the opalescent coffee table, to the moon-shaped lamp. It gives lunar princess vibes.

I drop onto the couch, snuggling myself into the corner as I take a sip of my watermelon concoction. It isn’t half bad.

“Syd’s not here yet?”

“Nope. I think you were right, she was probably coming,” Stevie smirks.

I snort and Lee lets out a muttered, “Oh my God.”

“Let’s start, and we can catch her up.” I reach forward and grab the remote to flip to the right channel and pull up our show.

“I’m fine with that. To the murder,” Lee cheers, holding her drink out.

“To the murder,” Stevie echoes with her own wine glass.

“To the murder,” I smile, finally feeling at ease.

FIVE

DEER

“The haunted house went up in flames and multiple dead bodies were found inside. All the deceased were graduated students from the local high school. However, upon closer inspection, it was found that the deceased did not die of smoke inhalation but instead murder.”

“That’s kind of a smart idea,” Lee pipes up, “using the fire to hide your tracks.” She tilts her head at the TV screen, causing her black French braids to sway as she scrutinizes the scene before us.

“Yeah, it’s a pity it didn’t work,” Stevie laments, taking a large sip of her rosé.

“A bystander did note that three motorcycles were seen leaving the scene of the crime, and it was even believed that they were wearing Halloween masks not unlike those of popular horror movie villains.”

“You know, those Ghostface masks are pretty hot,” I chime in, reaching forward to grab a cookie from the table.

“Right,” Lee hums in agreement, holding out an empty hand and twinkling her fingers.

I plop the cookie in her hand before going back to grab another.

“That’s the same thought I had when I met Aleks the first time,” Stevie nods.

“There’s something incredibly wrong with all of you,” a posh British voice scoffs.

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